The last first hair cut

First haircuts are often more traumatic for the mom than the baby. We have a video of Danny's first haircut with me standing off to the side wincing as my baby boy's wisps of hair fell to the floor. Jim was but a novice with the clippers at the time and the child looked like a cancer patient recovering from chemo. I was not pleased. 

My husband has been itching to give the baby a haircut. Every other day, he's said, "You need a haircut,  boy."

And, each time, I've cried, "Nooooooo. Not yet." You see, he's still my baby. He'll likely be my last one.

Thursday, we took a road trip to see my sister and her family. They'd never met my baby. He was born while they were living in Japan.

After watching him trot around for a few hours, Jax said to me, "You know that he has a mullet, don't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I just wanted you to see him for the first time unspoiled."

When I got home from our trip, I informed my husband that he could cut the baby's hair.

He was a little too happy about it. Today turned out to be the day, though.

You're gonna do what to my hair?

Get off!

Owen ... meet the clippers.

By this point, mommy was wincing in the background.

Punk.

 I'm going to have to wean him soon. I don't think I can nurse a child with a mohawk.